


If It Fucking Kills Me

by Rednaelo



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Autofellatio, Bottoming from the Top, Bumblebee and his toothgap fetish, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Sitting, Felching, M/M, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Topping from the Bottom, Verbal Humiliation, Wet & Messy, let's see how many weird sex positions i can cram in one fic, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednaelo/pseuds/Rednaelo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't be friends with benefits if you're not actually friends. The benefits are still pretty great, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Fucking Kills Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Herzspalter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herzspalter/gifts).



> OHHHKAY HOLY SHIT.
> 
> First of all, I am so sorry for how long this took, I am more or less the epitome of shame. Secondly! This is the first time I have ever started a story _more than twenty fucking times_ before I finally went, "FUCK IT. FUCK CONTEXT. FUCK PLOT. THEY FUCK. THAT IS THE PLOT." This has been one of the most challenging assignments but, you know what, now that I'm at the end point, I think I did something good. It has been years since I wrote ten pages of nothing but porn but god, it is a sight to behold. The perspective kinda wobbles back and forth inconsistently but, fuck it, I kept the focus where it was interesting.
> 
> To Herz,  
> I really hope that this is full of things that you enjoy. I'm not going to admit how much time I spent going through p much every single one of your works and essentially making inventory of what you would like. I also just made some wild experimental guesses about possible kinks and positions and kept asking myself how nasty I could get with this. I just hope that I got some of it right! Again, I'm really sorry for how long this took but thank you so much for your patience all the while! I hope you think it was worth the wait! Thank you so much and I would be more than happy to write for you again.
> 
> -Bec

Bumblebee faces away from Blitzwing because, honestly, he’d rather give the fragger a free shot at his back than show his face to him while they do this. 

“This has got to be the most uninteresting view, ever,” Blitzwing drawls as boredly as he possibly can while Bee steadily lowers himself, his valve stretching around Blitzwing’s spike.  The minibot swears it gets bigger every time the two of them mutually glitch and decide this is a good idea. Maybe that’s just a sign that this needs to stop happening.  Like how last time Bee overloaded the second he felt that solvent-wet glossa stroking up the side of his neck while his hips rocked against Blitzwing’s pelvic plating and left behind gritty scrapes of yellow paint.

“That’s because you’re not looking at the good part,” Bee snaps.  He walks his hands forward on the coffee table in front of the couch, arching his back just so.  His aft lifts up, valve clenching, and he hears Blitzwing shudder out – feels it when something hot leaks into the sensitive lining.  Bee peeks over his shoulder, smirk obscured by his own plating but he knows Blitzwing catches it by how his lip is curling up in a twitched snarl.  “See, now you found it.  Just keep watch, make sure it doesn’t escape or something.”

“Planning on running, little bug?”  Hands curl around Bee’s hips and lift him up enough that he tips his balance forward onto his hands.  Only the points of his pedes touch the floor. 

“Only if you don’t shut up, ugh, your voice is annoying.”  Bumblebee groans and gives a deliberate shove of his hips backwards.  It’s sudden and his calipers strain with how widely they open.  Little, sharp dentae catch Bumblebee’s bottom lip and a twitch zings through his face plate; went a little too fast there.

“Had enough already?” Blitzwing asks.  His venting is deep and slow, his hands carrying the weight of Bee’s hips, fingers rubbing against the bulge of his own spike beneath that thin plating.  “You can’t possibly be done.”

“Give me a fraggin’ minute!” Bee strains, digging his digits into the table.  “I’d like to see you take a spike three times the standard capacity of your valve that quick!”

“Yeah, I bet you just would,” Blitzwing purrs.  He shifts, getting to his pedes, body curling over Bumblebee’s as his spike pushes in that much deeper. “Lean forward, that’s right, just like that….”  Blitzwing nudges at the minibot’s back until Bee nestles his helm between his hands gripping at the edge of the table, small feet lifting to brace against the couch instead of just dangling up off the ground.   Transfluid leaks and dribbles from Bee’s spike, falling in hushed, thick drops to a little puddle on the nubbed carpet.

“You said,” Bee starts, cutting himself off with a moan when Blitzwing rolls his hips forward and pushes hard against the deepest wall of the minibot’s valve.  “Uhhgh…. Primus….”

“What was that, bug?” Blitzwing teases him.  Bee’s optics roll back and he shuts them while each thrust presses punishingly into him.  His processor trades back the assurance that there’s no way that Blitzwing’s spike can possibly fit inside – that any second something is going to burst – and the persistent shock of how this is the most blissful pain that Bee has ever been in. 

Which is why isn’t going to say a damn thing to stop it.

Though that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make a ton of noise.

Blitzwing curls his body over Bee’s and mouths at the seams of his plating with a slippery tongue, humming along the sensitive inlets while he rolls his hips lazily.

“You should let me do this more often,” he purrs happily into Bee’s audial before his tongue tickles up and curls almost affectionately around one of Bee’s horns.  Bumblebee’s optics snap open, a gasp widening into a startled cry.

“What are you—a-ah!”

Blitzwing’s tongue constricts and flicks against the tip of Bumblebee’s horn, sending the minibot’s sensory input swerving in his processor.  Temperature readouts dial up and his fans click onto a higher setting in response.  Internal coolant reservoirs release soft bursts of fluid through him, making Bee shiver hard as it takes to his systems. A sloppy gush of lubricants leaks right out of his overstretched valve and seeps down Blitzwing’s thighs.   The hot, wet pressure around his horn releases and Bee comes back to his body realizing that he’s breathing so hard that it’s rattling him more than Blitzwing thrusts are.

“Well, wasn’t that _fun_ …,” Blitzwing drawls with a manic little giggle chasing the words into Bee’s audial.  “You’ve never done that before.”

Bee rubs his external node hard under his fingertips and his valve clenches down rapidly in pace with his desperate venting.

“Cog…sucking…fragger….”

“Now, now, sit up, let’s play some more,” Blitzwing says, smiling as he hooks a hand beneath Bee’s chassis and picks him up.  Bumblebee startles, hands flying back to clutch at Blitzwing’s forearms for support.  “Why did you never tell me your little horns were sensitive?”

“Why – ngh, hahh, hah…why did you…lick it!” Bee cries. 

“Veerrryy sensitive, huh? Sensitive enough to keep it a secret from Blitzy!”

“Oh, don’t –”

Blitzwing’s lips and tongue wrap around the horn that hasn’t been slicked in oral solvents yet and slurps against it loudly.  Bee screams in surprise.

With twisted tongue and suckling lips, Blitzwing presses his lips to Bee’s helm, sucking in his cheeks and moaning gently as Bee frantically fucks himself on Blitzwing’s spike.  The minibot’s mouth opens wide and he lets a desperate, shuddering cry out with each exhale, aborted words falling out behind them every now and again.

Bee is having trouble seeing.  Spots burst in bright colors and darkness while Blitzwing more or less fellates his horn.  Still, that long, thick spike is spreading his calipers wide and every so often, the head drags perfectly over the sensor nodes inside.

Bee scratches off the paint on Blitzwing’s arms when he overloads, sobbing in pleasure while transfluid spurts onto the table in front of them.  Blitzwing scrapes his dentae against Bee’s horn; that little valve squeezes his spike so tight and wetly....  He’s so close, Primus, and opening his optics to see Bee shivering apart in his servos and the splatters of fluid painting the coffee table has him trembling.

Not quite enough, though….

“Let go,” Bee says like he’s spit up the words between catching his breath.  Blitzwing settles on the couch again, releasing his grip on Bumblebee when the little bot can get his pedes on the floor. A small yellow hand plants itself on Blitzwing’s chestplates and pushes.  Blitzwing’s spike slides out of Bee’s valve with a sloppy _schlick_ noise and he topples over sideways as Bumblebee climbs on top of him. 

Blitzwing grins up at the very up-close and intimate sight of that little valve, spread right above his face and flush-full of transfluid and lubricants.  His tongue sneaks up to steal a taste and he gets his pelvic plating slapped as soon as he teases the nub of Bee’s external node.

“Ouch!”

“No licking!” Bee yells, his volume due more to lack of control than actual distress.  His thighs are still shaking, knees rattling on either side of Blitzwing’s helm.  “Open your mouth if you want, but keep still!  Oh, ugh, there’s so much built up….”

Blitzwing might get reprimanded for doing it – he was told to stay still, after all – but he doesn’t want to keep his hands off, so he strokes up Bee’s thighs and grips at him eagerly, mouth open and waiting.  Bee reaches between his own legs and pushes two fingers between the lips of his valve and spreads them.  The fluid that comes out is thick and viscous and slides down right onto Blitzwing’s lips, warm and heady with that familiar flavor.  Bee’s whole frame shakes gently with aftershocks.  He strokes idly at his external node and Blitzwing watches those fingers a moment.  He can feel his spike throbbing in interest at the sight.  Cum drips down his cheek and he dares a kiss to those swollen folds.

“You’re slag at following directions,” Bee huffs out, pressing his array vindictively into Blitzwing’s face before he shifts again and snags hold of the triple-changer’s spike.

“Ahh! Watch what you’re doing, puny insect!”

“Oh, shut up, you big baby, I’m not gonna break it.  You just need a firm hand.” 

Blitzwing chokes when Bee’s fingers constrict tight around the base of his spike and a clever little tongue laps at the head. There’s still cum leaking steadily out of Bumblebee’s valve in translucent drips, smearing across Blitzwing’s lips and chin.  The triple-changer grips hard enough to dent Bee’s thighs when he feels sharp suction around the leaking tip of his spike.  It _hurts_.  Sends hard jolts of tactile data slicing through Blitzwing’s sensornet but when they all meet at the apex of his processor, they turn over and seize every nerve ending with heat and ecstasy.  Blitzwing moans and buries his nose and mouth into Bee’s valve, devouring.

The minibot slows with his lips pursed softly at the tip of Blitzwing’s spike, lapping gently before pulling away.  One hand still presses down on Blitzwing’s pelvic plating, fingers circled in a purposeful vise; Bee lifts his other hand and teases his fingers along the bright biolighting along Blitzwing’s spike. The jolt is enough to make Bee’s interface array mash even harder against the triple-changers face; that moan is lost, muffled in the soft, wet lips of Bee’s valve.

“See, and you know what the funny thing is, you miserable scrap-heap?” Bee lilts in a breathless tease as his digits work, both punishing and pleasuring, “I could’ve stayed on this monster all night and you never would’ve dripped a drop.  Ain’t that right?”

Blitzwing’s lets his helm fall back against the couch, cycling his vents hard, trying to get his processor to do its job. 

“We both know you can’t get the overload you want just like that, now, can you?  Take all you like but you won’t get until it’s given.”

“Go back to…using that obnoxious mouth for—aah! something…useful!”

“You first,” Bee sneers and undulates his hips down.  Maybe Blitzwing’s mouth is open and his tongue already extended, but he’ll blame it on being in the middle of a rebuttal, not seeking that slick and heady taste of mingling fluids, the hot mesh on his mouth.  The grip on his spike is squeezing rhythmically.  Bee has found that _one spot_ under the ridge of the head and is coaxing his fingertip against it relentlessly.  “You’re starting to get real interested now, though, aren’t ya?  Now that I’ve got you on your back and got your mouth where it belongs.  Got your useless spike as my prisoner here and, aw, look at it, making a nasty mess just as I pay it a little attention.”

Blitzwing shudders and takes Bee’s valve lips into his mouth, sucking on them in steady time to the pulse that ebbs and flows through his whole frame.  His calipers squeeze hard on nothing; he can feel his external node throbbing.

“Fact is that you just like being toyed with, big bot. ‘Specially by puny little bugs like me. Gets you right here, don’t it?”

Bee’s grip is suddenly gone; Blitzwing feels like he can breathe again. Instead, those little fingers push into his valve, eight at once, and spread him wide.  Spinal strut bowing up off the couch, Blitzwing’s optics snap open and he groans hard, stretched open to the air, so cold on his exposed machinery – he’s sure there’s steam lifting off of him.   Bee’s shoulders jostle a little, shaken by a derisive giggle.  His glossa slicks against his lips and he leans over, getting a good eyeful of Blitzwing’s valve on display.

“What a sloppy fragging mess,” Bee snorts.  And then he spits on Blitzwing’s external node.  “You’re so gross.”

* * *

Blitzwing comes to with his optics shorting out a little, rolling back in his helm while his processor catalogues all of the sensations, one by one.  First thing is the balance recalibration, which is reading that the triple-changer is putting his weight on his shoulders, his wings, with his knees by his audials.  That means the sharp chill on his exposed array and the drips of scorching lubricant trickling down his pelvic plating are because he’s got his aft in the air.

He resets his optics and finds Bumblebee hunching over him, pedes on the couch, hands tight on the backs of his thighs, grinning while he leers at the sight of his own, chubby little spike pressing between the still-twitching lips of Blitzwing’s valve.

“You came so hard just now you fraggin’ knocked yourself out,” Bee giggles like it’s the raunchiest thing that he’s ever heard of.  A smirk curls across Blitzwing’s lips when he realizes that the minibot is shivering in delight, revved up hard enough to hit the pavement full-throttle.  “What was it, the insults?  The spitting?  Please tell me it was the spitting; you could do with being spit on more.”

“And prevent you from your own experimentation with me? Sounds boring,” Blitzwing purrs, shifting his hands to prop up his hips while Bee ruts himself delightedly against his exposed valve.  “What’s this setup you’ve pulled me into?”

“Well, now that you’re back in the land of the functioning…. You want more, don’tcha?”

“If I didn’t I would’ve kicked you off by now,” Blitzwing says.  His fingers creep towards his valve lips and spread them a little so Bee can press deeper. 

“I want to see if you can suck your own spike.”  Bee’s dentae clamp down on his bottom lip while he presses his lusty gaze hard into Blitzwing’s optics.   Those eyes are brightest blue and full of fervor, impatient.  “Have you tried it before?  I bet you could do it.  You should do it right now.  C’mon, I know with that stupid tongue you have in your head, you could at least lick it real good.”

Blitzwing smirks and rocks his hips a little to throw the minibot off his babbling and get him to focus on his frotting.

“Have _you_ tried it before?” Blitzwing asks him, breathless even while he affects casual curiosity.  Doesn’t change the fact that his own spike is pointing straight at him and starting to leak again.

“Yes.  It hurt and I couldn’t do it.”

“Hah!”

“Shut up.”  Bee wraps his hand around the base of Blitzwing’s spike and gives it a few firm pulls to coax him into the idea.  Blitzwing’s shoulders seize and he doesn’t manage to catch the squeal of pleasure that bursts out of his lips.  “C’mon, it’s kinky, you love kinky.”

“As if you don’t,” Blitzwing says as he opens his mouth to catch the falling drop of prefluid that’s leaked out.  He watches Bee’s face the entire time, can almost see the zap of unexpected arousal zipping through the minibot’s optics.

“Y-you really haven’t even thought of doing this before?” Bumblebee asks.  His thrusts have slowed, but he’s pressing their hips together even more insistently.

“When did I say that?”

Admittedly, Blitzwing’s a hell of a lot more fixated on Bumblebee than he is on himself.  Himself and this…little feat he’s performing.  There’s a whirr as his face changes to a shadow and a jag of red, mouth splitting to let his tongue tease and curl up the length of his own spike.  Sure, it feels strange and tickling and arousing and the taste of his own fluids is exciting and nasty in its own way.

Bumblebee’s flabbergasted face is somehow more satisfying to focus on.

Bee pants hard, open mouthed, zeroed in on the twist of Blitzwing’s serpentine tongue, watching its corkscrew constriction along the length of his spike.  It twists upwards and licks up residual transfluid from Bee’s valve along the way.  And then Blitzwing’s tongue slides away again, the tip flicking against the ridge under the head of his spike.  The triple-changer gives an obliging shudder at the tease he gave himself, practically cooing in pleasure.  Bee grips harder at the back of Blitzwing’s thighs and his rut picks up.

“Fraaaaag, that’s so dirty,” Bee shudders, in absolute awe.  “Oh, frag, you’re so nasty, you’re so disgusting, ughh.”

So he says but Blitzwing feels the molten dribbles of fluid seeping between the lips of his valve.  The twitches of the minibot’s spike are so strong they’re dividing the cleft of mesh every alternating second.

Blitzwing chuckles and leans up just a little more.  His abdominal plating pinches something awful but it’s so worth it to watch Bumblebee’s face (gasping, wide-eyed, stupid) when Blitzwing closes his lips all the way around the head of his spike and sucks on it.  It’s difficult to keep hold.  Blitzwing slips down then heaves back up, his lips suckling wetly with a _pop!_ when he loses his mouthful and then a grunt of effort while he tries to gain it back.  Oral solvents dribble from the sides of his mouth.

Bee is chewing on his bottom lip like he’s trying to eat it.  It’s all scratched up and wet and his fans are starting to whine from overexertion but it’s like he can’t even hear them.

“You need help,” the minibot decides.  And he pushes and leans and plunges his spike into Blitzwing’s valve.  The shift in pressure thrusts Blitzwing’s spike deeper into his own mouth and with of moan of pain and dizzying pleasure, he loses himself to the wave of heat pitching through his every nerve.  “Y-yeah…yeah, just keep sucking it ‘till I’m done with you.  Lemme see your optics; look at me.  Ohh, frag, love that look on you, you’re so fraggin’ desperate, you’re completely at my mercy, you’re lovin’ this.  Yeah, Blitzy, yeah, you’re so happy right now, gettin’ f-fragged while you suck yourself off.”

Blitzwing moans. His engine rumbles deeply, though it stutters a time or too.  It’s hard to work up a good purr when you have a spike thrusting down into your mouth but he does his damndest.  It feels nice on his array, the vibrations, and Bumblebee is starting to moan on every exhale instead of babbling more filthy words.  He’s getting close.  Blitzwing feels hot, sticky mess bubbling out of his valve and oozing down his aft, his back, and swallows the little spurts that land on tongue.  He catches Bee’s optics, whimpers brokenly and clenches his valve tight.

Bee overloads in an instant.

His little struts seize tight and he _screams_ because Bumblebee does not have an ounce of modesty (Blitzwing loves it; it makes his node twitch).  His little fingers scratch furrows into Blitzwing’s paint, peeling off the color in jagged rows and his hips thrust so wildly that his fat little spike pops out at one point and makes a splattering mess all over Blitzwing’s thighs.

Transfluid leaks, filling the seam between the lips of Blitzwing’s valve.  Bee is panting hard, drooling a little as he stares at the aftermath of his little rut-and-hump, licking his lips hungrily while he trembles.  Blitzwing tongues his spike slowly and watches with the kind of face that Bee can translate easily as, ‘I’m three kliks from overload but you’re a pain in the aft and stopped doing what was getting me there.’

This happens more frequently than not.

“Alright, alright, you can stop,” Bee says, taking a wobbly step down from his perch on the couch and releasing his grip on Blitzwing’s legs once he’s sure of his footing.  The triple-changer groans in a hard sigh as he brings his legs down.  The aches are razor-sharp now that he’s stretched out and no longer getting (or giving) any attention to his interface panel.  His spike and valve are both leaking like his lubricant systems are straight-up broken.  Puddles on the couch, on his sore, sore plating.

“If you don’t finish what you start, I’m going to cram your whole head in my valve,” Blitzwing growls, the noise petering off into a needy whine.  Bee just laughs because even if Blitzwing’s going full on rage-pout at him, he’s so worn out he can barely bring his hands to his crotch to service himself at all.  Let alone follow up on his threat.

“Sounds stupid and painful for both of us,” Bee says, crawling on top of Blitzwing and straddling his thighs.  “Wouldn’t you rather just keep it simple?”  His spike still hasn’t depressurized.  Bee undulates a little, frotting their spikes together, slick and hot.

Blitzwing reaches out and pulls Bumblebee’s hands to rest on his aching abdominals.

“Make good use of yourself and maybe I won’t fling you across the room for getting on top of me, _again_.”

Bee salutes him, jauntily.

“ _Jawohl.”_

Blitzwing snarls, his lip curling up in disdain but then Bee’s hands are massaging out all of the kinks in his abdominal plating and his spike is getting some sweet attention from those coquettish thrusts.  Blitzwing breathes in deep and pushes it all out in a hot sigh.  His optics flutter shut.  The steady swell of heat and pleasure begins curling tight between his legs and making every nerve alive with sensation.

Then Bumblebee slaps him across the face.

He’s seeing red before he even registers his optical feed but at the exact moment his processor connects action:(throw) to object:(slaghead minibot), there’s a mouth on his.  Blitzwing freezes.  Bumblebee whimpers the sluttiest little moan and his glossa slips right between the gap on Blitzwing’s teeth.  Back and forth, he flicks his tongue, taking little tastes of Blitzwing’s lips and tongue every time, moaning into his mouth.  One little humping thrust at a time, Bee pushes himself up Blitzwing’s body until his valve lips are pursed – hot and _extraordinarily_ wet – around the head of Blitzwing’s spike.

“What are you playing at?” Blitzwing asks, torn between baffled and aroused and it’s all coming out angry.  Seems to suit the minibot just fine.  He literally just wraps his lips around Blitzwing’s dentae (the gap front and center) and suckles.  There’s a lot of tongue involved.

Blitzwing grabs Bumblebee by the shoulders and pushes him away, effectively pushing that valve onto his spike with a hot squelch and Bee makes sound of protest that ends in a delighted squeak.

The triple-changer’s demand that Bumblebee explain himself dies on his tongue as the yellow bot plants his hands on Blitzwing’s chest and rocks himself at a steady speed.  The head of Blitzwing’s spike hits the deepest part of that valve.  Blitzwing’s helm falls back and he resists the urge to ram his hips upwards, lest he exacerbate the twinge in his abdomen.

Bumblebee bounces.  Blitzwing  furrows his brow and growls when he exhales.  His cheek is still smarting, one of them, anyway.  All so this bratty little bot could suck on his teeth.

What a freak.

Blitzwing’s gonna cum.

He pushes Bee off of him, much to the minibot’s very vocal dismay.  In a quick motion, he has Bumblebee on his back with his knees by his audials, much the same Blitzwing was earlier.  He doesn’t demand Bee attempt to suck himself off.  Flexible though the little bot may be – and so feisty, those optics are still burning bright in challenge and wild arousal, he’s drooling all over himself, grinning like a loon – Blitzwing has other plans.

He makes sure Bumblebee can see, steadily lowering his mouth until that cute little external node is just a shiver shy of the space between Blitzwing’s dentae.  Bee chokes on his whimper.  Blitzwing nudges the node with his tongue up into his tooth gap and then laps him up in earnest.

“Oh, you fragger!!!  Oh, frag you! Frag you! Frag y-uh! Oh! Ohhh! Uhgh, Blitz…n-no! No don’t, it’s too—!! It’s, ahh!  Ffffffffffffrag me! Primus, _frag me!_ More! Mo-h!  Ahh!”

There’s a point when Blitzwing knows that he’s got the upper hand and it’s always when Bee starts babbling absolute _nonsense_.  Coherency goes in fits and bursts, sentences start and get interrupted by moans and random words come out non-sequitur.  Bee holds his own knees up by his head and thrusts his hips into Blitzwing’s face, squealing every time his external node catches on Blitzwing’s teeth.

It’s easy to get him to the edge again.  Blitzwing clings as hard as he can to the searing need for release, how he’s vindictively clawed after it with the taste of his own cum at the back of his throat and has been more than cooperative and patient.  It keeps his energy focused.  He pulls away and slams Bee’s hips down into the couch, pulling his legs out straight so he can pin them down and fuck himself on that stupid little spike that always manages to hit the sweet node right inside him.

“W-w-what the fraggggg…!” Bee whines, bucking up ineffectually while Blitzwing punishes him, his valve ravenous. 

“You owe me an overload, you spoiled glitch,” Blitzwing hisses, shifting his hips so the little cogsucker’s spike can enthusiastically greet his ceiling node.  He presses frantic fingers to his external node and rubs.  Almost…almost, almost…!  Blitzwing snarls in frustration.  He’s so close! Why can’t he just have it!

“C’mere!”

 Blitzwing is suddenly yanked down, his calipers clenching desperately to make sure the spike so snug inside him doesn’t slip out, and then Bee is there in his face, breathing hard and venting hot and locking optics with him.  Blitzwing shifts around, getting his hand out from where it was pinched between their bodies and Bee licks Blitzwing’s mouth.

“This again!” Blitzwing snaps.

Bumblebee ignores him, picking up the pace that Blitzwing lost.  His pedes braced on the couch, he thrusts his hips upwards, kissing his way around Blitzwing’s faceplates.  One kiss chasing another.  Little flicks of tongue and tiny bites that barely even qualify as bites in the first place.

The tenderness came out of nowhere – such contrast to the punishing pace of their hips clanging together – and Blitzwing’s spark heaves over on itself haphazardly.  He doesn’t know what to do with this.  But Bee’s spike is still plunging into his sloppy valve and he’s got one arm wrapped around Blitzwing’s neck and his other hand around Blitzwing’s spike.

Blitzwing follows the heat that bubbles up in his chest plates and slips his tongue into Bee’s mouth for him to suckle on.  Everything’s vividly molten, all burning-bright and deep and strut-melting.  Bee pulls back and puts a single, stupid smooch on the tip of Blitzwing’s nose.

“You wanna cum on me, sweetspark?” he croons. 

Blitzwing’s face shifts without him really realizing it and now he’s whining, he’s purring, he’s begging without words, nuzzling and licking at Bee’s face.  Bumblebee giggles and somehow it’s the cutest thing in the world.  Blitzwing wiggles his hips and feels the teasing shift of Bee’s spike inside his valve.

“Ooh…it’s so nice…!”

“That’s right, don’t get all wound up, just play,” Bumblebee coos at him, putting more kisses on his shadowy features.

Well, that’s not gonna be too difficult for Blitzwing. 

He arches his back and rolls his hips at a syncopated hitch to Bee’s thrusting, watching all the while as Bee lays there with his optics looking lazy and his face flushed hot and feverish.

“You look like you’re about to pop, little bug!” Blitzwing moans, pressing the length of his chassis down against the little body beneath him.

“Your valve is so hot and so wet and I’m trying…I’m trying not to-!”  Bee digs his fingers in hard to Blitzwing’s wing hinges, burying his face into the cables of Blitzwing’s neck to mouth at them.  If he talks any more he’s going to just go right back to babbling and then he really _will_ lose it.

“Aw, you’re being so nice to me; you want me to overload first, _ja?_ ” Blitzwing purrs and wraps his lips around the closest horn.  It’s right there, it’s little, it’s cute, it makes Bee scream so hard his vocalizer shorts out and he cums inside Blitzwing’s valve when the sensory surge catches him off guard. 

Blitzwing giggles.  The little minibot is still moaning brokenly while Blitzwing maneuvers him, pushing the minibot’s knees back up towards his shoulders and then squatting over him to get that spike back inside.

“Heehee, like this it looks like I’m fragging you more than the other way around!” Blitzwing says, breathless as he drives his hips downwards.  Bee is grunting with each push.

“Y-you arree!” the minibot whines.  His fingers have slipped down to plunge into his own valve, four at once, making a mess of himself.  “Ugghh, y-you’re killing me, you’re dr-driving me insane, I-! I’m gonna f-fraggin’ break!”

“You’re spike is still going and it, ngh!  Feels!  So!  Good!  Nnh, right there!”  Blitzwing bears down hard, pushing his hips back so Bee’s spike will push hard into the oversensitized lining of his valve.  Blitzwing jerks his hips in little aborted thrusts and milks transfluid out of his own valve with the attention given to his ceiling node.

It’s too damn good.  Then Bee gets Blitzwing’s external node between two cum-smeared digits and Blitzwing overloads with a delighted howl.  Pleasure that has been building for what seems like an eternity rushes back and forth through his whole body, helm to pedes, and his spike twitches full force, splattering transfluid all over Bee’s plating.  Another shudder shocks through the triple-changer when he spots Bee licking an errant splash of cum from his own lips.

Blitzwing falls backwards, crashing onto the couch and getting his legs all tangled with Bumblebee’s.  There’s a veritable flood of fluids spilling out of his valve.  This sofa is never going to be the same.  Tick by tick, there’s the sound of plating finally cooling off and fans whirring down to reasonable levels.  Nothing compares to how loud the two of them are still breathing. 

Eventually Bee’s helm pokes up and he finds Blitzwing with his optics closed, face cool and collected as exhaustion and afterglow settle.  The minibot purses his lips together and just stares for a while.  They’re both really gross.  Needed the washracks like hours ago but now they _need_ them.  And energon. 

Bee sways up to his pedes after kicking Blitzwing’s legs off of him and his interface panel closes with a wet click.  He grimaces.

“Where are you going?”

Bee halts in his tracks and turns around.  Blitzwing hasn’t moved an inch, save for one optic open to track Bumblebee’s movement.

“To clean up?” he says dumbly.  No two chips worth of intelligence in his processor to rub together for a snappy comeback.  Blitzwing fucks him stupid.  Every single time.

“What was with all the kissing at the end there?”

Bee blinks and his dumbfounded reverie is broken by the plop of fluid leaking out of his panels and onto the floor. Cute. Uggh….

“How about this,” he bargains, rubbing his eyes wearily, “I don’t ever answer that question, and in exchange, you come with me and I’ll wash you myself and eat you out when I’m done.”

Might be fucked stupid but he knows better to go there just yet.  Luckily for Bee, Blitzwing likes to keep their overload score even and Bee owes him one more.


End file.
